


He Never Says No

by nicholas_de_vilance



Series: My Roomate's a Prostitute [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 22:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicholas_de_vilance/pseuds/nicholas_de_vilance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I found a poster advertising “Roommate Wanted” at an address close to Cal State Humboldt and responded to the offer immediately. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do; I should have checked some background on the guy and made sure he wasn’t the BTK or something. In retrospect on my retrospect, it wouldn’t have made a difference. I would have moved in if the apartment was roach infested, or he sacrificed puppies to the dark gods because I met Jensen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Never Says No

**Author's Note:**

> Start of a series I never finished on ff.net. Maybe I'll get around to finishing and posting the other parts.

I didn’t know that I was gay until around the time that I started college. My family didn’t know until…well, they still don’t know, and it isn’t like we’re the postcard type. The first chance I had to get the hell out of dodge, I took it. Not to say that I don’t love San Antonio, I don’t love the people that linger there. Luckily, I found a poster advertising “Roommate Wanted” at an address close to Cal State Humboldt and responded to the offer immediately. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do; I should have checked some background on the guy and made sure he wasn’t the BTK or something. In retrospect on my retrospect, it wouldn’t have made a difference. I would have moved in if the apartment was roach infested, or he sacrificed puppies to the dark gods because I met Jensen.

            Jensen, my slutty, gay roommate, Jensen.

            Jensen, who I quickly found out is from Dallas, loves Thai food, and hates Lesbians, Jensen.

            When I moved in, I had so much trouble being in the same room with him, much less holding a conversation with him, without staring dumbly at his eyes. They are so green that I once had the crazy notion that his soul must be radioactive. Either way, I gawked at him, and if he was anyone else, he would have been freaked out. I mean, _hello_ ; it’s only human to shy away when a freakishly tall, moppy-haired, nerdy college student is insisting on the possibility of long-distance eyeball sex. However, Jensen, being the man he is, passed me off with a promiscuous smirk and told me I should pay for eye candy.

            Right then, I was sure of three very important, life changing things. One, I was gay. Yes, that scared the shit out of me; no, I did not slit my wrists. Two, I was madly in love with my roommate. In fact, I was a little desperate with it for a while. At one point, I actually locked myself in my room—needed to get away from him—for two whole days until Jen threatened to kick the door in and drag me out by my hair to eat the dinner he’d prepared “with sweat, blood and tears.” It hurt a bit when he showed that he cared about me because I knew he didn’t love me. This brings me to number three.

            Drum roll, please…Jensen is a prostitute. He’s quite proud of it too, and if the gossip’s anything to go by, he’s amazing. Actually, the comments are along the lines of “an amazing fuck,” but I don’t usually feel comfortable objectifying him like that. Which is one of the reasons I’m certain it would never work between us.

            First of all, I’m still getting used to the whole “I’m into cock” thing. And yeah, that is kind of Jensen’s fault. With his bright green eyes, his bee-stung lips, soft blond hair, hard, muscled chest and firm, round ass. I probably would still be unknowingly in the proverbial closet if he wasn’t so damn insistent on walking around in nothing but his boxer-briefs—sometimes nothing at all—half the time he’s at home. Sometimes it feels like he flaunts his awesome body like a toy in the window of a shop: couldn’t reach through the glass if I tried. I respect him too damn much, probably a hell of a lot more than he did himself.

            When I think about it, it’s kind of stupid. I felt like the only faggot in the world who, when he sees Jensen Ackle’s pert ass, doesn’t reach out, try to goose him and pray he doesn’t smack my hand away. Just because I was his roommate, is that why I think so highly of him? I mean, he’s a whore. He makes a living objectifying _himself_. I should find that deeply repulsive and pity him. Of course, if I watched him shake that ass too long in a club and then walk out with a new “client” in tow, I got a little uneasy. The first half of the year living with him, I never got how he could just throw himself at a complete stranger without being afraid. Besides that, it’s also kind of an enormous turn on.

            If only he’d look at me the way he does all of those other guys. If only he’d take me by the arm and lead me out into the night. We’d go to the apartment, my room because it’s closest to the front door. Then maybe I could push him down to the bed and kiss him breathless. I can hear his voice in my head. Moans and whimpers while I explore his body. A line of kisses down his neck as he rasps my name like a low, sex-ridden chant. I like to imagine I’m a sex-god sometimes.

            However, even my fantasies have _some_ basis in reality and I put my head against the wall while I heard imaginary Jensen explain how much he charged. The coolness of the tile seeped into my body and my hard cock seemed to twitch in dismay at the change of pace. My hand stilled against the crotch of my jeans. Funny how quickly my exciting fantasy can so easily become a nasty cockblock.

            Next to me, the timed light switch to the bulbs above the bathroom mirror ticked away, banging viciously against my sensitive eardrums. “Fuck,” I murmured to no one in particular and shut it off.

            I found Jensen in the living room tonight. He was sitting with his legs crossed and propped up underneath him on the couch. Coming around the furniture, I saw a couple of beer bottles on the table and the blank look on his face. The TV was just acting as background noise to his thoughts. Also, I don’t think that he was getting much out of the Spanish channel.

            “Hey, you alright?”

            Slowly, he lifted his gaze to me. With a sloppy nod, his head thumped back against the back of the sofa. “M’drunk,” he replied.

            Rolling my eyes, I sat down next to him. “You only drink on Tuesdays. What’s the occasion?”

            “S’not Tuesday?”

            “Friday.” He just nodded.

            I let my eyes fall on the novella on the screen. I don’t know much Spanish, but I could watch their faces. Bad acting, plus Jensen, plus beer…makes for an awkward silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him finish off a bottle and stretch out to place it on the coffee table. I let my eyes flick lightly over his hand before it slipped out of view. Silently, I considered having those hands on my body for what felt like the millionth time and had to look back at Lucero and Jose to ignore the way my dick was waking up again.

            Then, he had to go and do something stupid. He turned his entire body toward me and pressed against my side, his head on my shoulder. My heart jumped painfully and it took all of my self-control to keep breathing normally. Warmth— _Jensen’s_ warmth—seeped into my shirt, into my skin, and he could have no possible idea what he was doing to me.

            A thousand thoughts ran through my head. Most of them were questions: What is he doing? Is this because he’s drunk? Should I lean into it? Why is he so beautiful? Really, no one had the right to be so pretty. I’ve seen him sleeping a few times and it’s hard not to see how girlishly adorable he really is. On a bitter afterthought, I figured that that was why he was so good at his job.

            “What are you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

            His words, like hot lava, oozed and burned over my skin. I waited until I was sure my voice wouldn’t crack. “You.”

            I didn’t mean to say that, but he didn’t shy away. “What about me?”

            _Pushing you down into the couch and fucking your brains out_ didn’t sound very sly. “Your voice,” I settled with. It wasn’t a lie; his voice was actually rather distracting.

            “What, does it turn you on?” I couldn’t tell by his quiet chuckle whether or not he was serious.

            I considered not answering, but my mouth kept moving on its own. “Maybe it does.”

            Strangely, he didn’t return with a hesitant, thoughtful silence. My miniature revelation didn’t seem to come off as a surprise to him at all. I figured that he was too drunk to fully appreciate the gravity that that statement held, on my end at least. In fact, the only reason I wasn’t desperately trying to prevent this conversation was because I figured he wouldn’t remember in the morning anyway. Also, he chose right then the throw an arm around my waist. There is no way he could know what that was doing to me. _Damn, drunk queer ass idiot._

            “Don’t give me ‘maybe.’ I know it does.”

            In that moment, I almost choked on my breath. _Get up, get off the couch now and get away from him._ I was caught between feeling abducted and tormented and feeling incredibly horny. Was he implying what I thought he was implying? Even if he was, no way could I let this happen. My cock disagreed when his arm settled innocently over my lap, but I could fight that. I was madly in love with him, and I didn’t want to be subjected to “oops sorry, I was drunk, can we forget that this ever happened” after-talk. I was pretty sure that my heart would give out if we had casual sex; if I told him that I loved him and he didn’t reciprocate. What would be even worse? He could assume I wanted to be one of his customers.

            Looking down at my waist uncertainly, I examined the leather-wrapped arm. Something caught my eye and held my attention, but I couldn’t figure out what it was with his breath against the side of my face.

            “How do you know?” I asked.

            “I see the way you flinch when I talk.” I flinched, damn him. “How you look at me, when you think I’m not watching. Everyone does it, undress me with your eyes, fuck me with your fantasy. Sometimes the fantasy can come true. Stick a dick in my mouth, fifty dollars. For one in my ass, seventy-five dollars. Try a gang bang…priceless… and that’s about all I’m worth, right?”

            It took me a few moments to first, realize that he’d asked me something, then make sense of what he’d asked me. “No,” but I couldn’t back that up with anything sensible. My mind was hooked on two things right now. Jensen was literally breathing down my neck and what about his arm? Actually, my sight had narrowed to his wrist, but then he moved it. He pulled it back slightly, perched his hand on my thigh in a way that made me sure he didn’t realize that that was my leg.

            “Yes it is,” he insisted. “Who cares about Jensen aside from the fact that he’ll do anything?”

            “I do.” Some of that had to do with his wrist; don’t know why, but it did.

            “Really? I figured you were just trying to get into my pants.” Sad that he could read me like a book. Was I that obvious?

            It was a bruise. _Anything, Jensen will do anything_. His wrist was bruised. The dark, purple mark was wrapped like a ring around his wrist…like a cuff. “What happened?”

            Jensen winced when I grabbed his arm and raised it to show the mark better. Still, his mind was too muddled to register my concern. He just shrugged. “Asian was into bondage.”

            With as much care as I could, so he wouldn’t think I was pushing him away, I pulled back and looked at him. Something finally clicked in my mind. I reached out and yanked the collar of his coat away from his neck—and halfway down his shoulders in my excitement. Bruises lay in a blotchy, blue and purple circle around the top of his throat just under the jaw. “Th’fuck?”

            “It’s called asphyxiation; a lot of people have that kink.” He sounded just a bit too comfortable with that and I had a hard time blaming the beer.

            “Do you like it?”

            He smiled widely, lazily. “No, it scared the shit out of me. Almost passed out with this guy’s fuckstick pounding into me. Don’t think he would’a paid me if that happened.”

            “That’s not funny, Jen.”

            “Of course not, why the hell do you think I’m drinking?” Smile fading abruptly, he leaned back into the couch again, away from me. A chill ran up my side where he had been. “Way to kill the buzz.”

            “Jensen, you have to have limits for shit like that.”

            “No, I don’t.” I wanted to hit him. “Limits mean less of me doing my job and less money coming in.”

            “But—”

            “No, Jared!” He cut me off with a sharp tone. “Why the hell do you think I’m so good at this, huh? Because I can suck cock? Lots of people can do that. People don’t take me home because I’m good at taking it, no matter how much of a plus that is. They take me, they pay me because I won’t say ‘no.’ I’m _good_ at not saying ‘no.’ I’m good at doing things that I don’t want to do.

            “Hell, people already take one look at me and see a pretty face; think I’m too innocent and fragile, too damned cute to take it hard core. I start saying ‘no,’ I ruin my rep and I seal the deal. I’d lose business. So I take the bruises and the kinks and get the normal sex when I can.”

            I stared at him. That was a few more details about his occupation than I had originally wanted to know. Still, it did nothing to make me respect him any less. Right then, he looked so desperate and uncertain that I couldn’t help but wrap an arm around him.

            “I really was scared, though,” he told me quietly. “This guy was holding my life in his hands and I let him. I trusted a complete stranger to stop at the right time, to remember to let me breath while he was fucking me senseless. What if he didn’t? I could have thrown my life away over a one hundred and twenty dollar night. I could be dead right now.”

            Needless to say that my hard on was completely gone. Thinking about these things made me wonder how people like Jensen could do it; made my heart jump in my throat at the thought of losing him like that. A chill settled over me and I pulled him just a little bit closer.

            “I suppose it wouldn’t really matter,” he went on, glumly, “who’s gonna miss a two-bit whore like me?”

            “Don’t say things like that.”

            “Why, you gonna miss me?”

            “No.” I snapped, pressing my forehead against the side of his head. “I’m not letting anything like that happen, damn it… _ever_.”

            He stiffened in my embrace—and really, of all the things I’ve said tonight _that_ makes him stiffen? Was he not expecting me to say that? Did he not know that I would most likely suffocate and die without him? I mean, it’s not really that hard to tell, and Jensen seems like the kind of guy to be able to read these sorts of things. I hoped I hadn’t overstepped some boundaries. I didn’t want him to shove me away, didn’t want to have him go off by himself to sulk. If he needed me—and I needed him—I couldn’t push him away.

            “Fuck, Jen,” I mumbled into his hair. “Stop pretending you don’t see right through me. Stop acting like no one in the world appreciates you when I’m right here.”

            I felt him shudder and his hand went back to my thigh. “I’m right here,” I repeated, less forceful.

            His breath quickened as he turned his head towards me. I felt fingers slip up my leg. “I know.”

            And then he was kissing me, his lips a hesitant pressure against mine—which was surprising because _nothing_ about Jensen is hesitant. Automatically, I put my hand up and cupped the back of his head. He tasted like salt and alcohol, and there was something else in the mix. That something must have been Jensen—just Jensen. I tried to suck as much as I could from his tongue the moment it delved into my mouth. I wanted that taste to last forever; I wanted to stay lost in that kiss until it consumed me. When he pulled away, it left me needing more, deeper.

            His hand on my leg dipped between my thighs and moved a forceful stroke up to my groin. My knees fell open for him, legs spreading, slack on the cushions. Gulping in air, I pulled him closer, capturing his mouth once more. I held tight to his shoulder even as he was pushing against me. I took him down with me and I was suddenly pressed on my back on the couch.

            “I know,” Jensen muttered against my lips.

            Abruptly, he snagged my wrists and wrapped my arms around his back. Right about the time I was letting my body rejoice in _Jensen_ doing all of this to me, his hips sunk between my legs. I let out a throaty groan when a wave of heat filled my body. His erection ground down against mine, friction added by my jeans and his slacks, and I tightened my grasp on him.

            “You still want me?”

            I didn’t know what he meant by _still_. Of course I wanted him, if my hard, throbbing cock wasn’t obvious enough to prove that: I wasn’t exactly screaming “rape,” was I?

            The flat of his hot tongue dragged up my throat, and his hand snuck under my shirt. “Course I—” a moan cut me off “—want you.”

            It all stopped as quickly as that. He tore away from me, out of my arms and off the couch. The movement was so fast that I barely registered it before I heard him crash into the coffee table. Beer bottles clinked together and then rolled onto the carpet with soft thuds. I took deep steadying breaths; my arms flew out to the side suddenly useless. What happened? What events transpired in the last three seconds that caused my brain to turn to mush?

            “Jensen?” I called quietly.

            All I got as a response was Lucero shouting what had to be horrible things at a man named Carlos for something. I couldn’t help wondering how much I missed. How long had we been at it? Could what felt like a short while have brought us to the end of the episode?

            I tried to lift my head through the foggy daze of arousal. “Jen?”

            He was sitting on the floor, half of his back propped up awkwardly by the table. Green eyes were the size of UFO saucers. I almost reached up to make sure I hadn’t sprouted another head to cause the look that I was getting. “Th’fuck is the matter with you?”

            “Huh?” I must have missed a few cues. This wasn’t making sense.

            “You _want_ me? Why?” For a moment, he seemed angry, and my first thought was that he was over reacting. His limbs sort of dropped where they may, leaving his body open wide in a lazy, disoriented slouch. My eyes fell to his groin and the well-sized bulge because hey, I’m a guy. I just got denied sex, back off. “You don’t want me, damn it. Not even the people who pay me want me.”

            “What?” I shook the fuzzy arousal out of my brain and looked at him. Sometimes, Jensen is pretty much an idiot. “I’m _not_ paying you.”

            He was just staring blankly at me, something like fear and fury in his too-green eyes. I wanted to yell at him. I knew what he was bringing up; it came up almost every time he got drunk. When he stopped thinking clearly, he started revealing all of his insecurities and guilty thoughts. He ended up whining to me about how horrible he was, about the bad things his father did to him, about why he was the way he was. Sober Jensen equals happy-go-lucky, getting it every day, every way like a good slut; drunken Jensen equals killjoy.

            “Don’t even start,” I snapped. “You always do this…this stupid ‘sorry for yourself’ bit. Knock it off!”

            “Jay, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “No, _you_ don’t know what I’m talking about.” I should have shut up, walked away and let him wallow in his self-pity. I should have let him drink himself silly and then not remember this in the morning. I should have had the strength in my own convictions to pull away from those wide eyes and guard my thoughts before they shot out of my mouth. I didn’t. “Do you think I’m some shallow shmuck checking you out from the back of a bar? Is that what you honestly think of me?”

            At first, Jensen didn’t say anything. He swallowed awkwardly and his gaze fell down to his lap, his tighter than usual slacks. “No,” he breathed at length.

            “Jen…” I had to take a few breaths to steady myself.

            We’d been so close to it, just on the brink of having something together. Having it torn away that quickly for no reason other than Jensen’s insecurity reminded me why I didn’t want to do this. If we did something like this and it all went to shit because of some self-esteem issues, I would lose it. No matter how much I wanted it, we both had to savvy up to this if it was going to happen.

            “Jensen!” I snapped and his head flew up, green eyes blinking in his drunken haze. “I want to have sex with you.”

            “Wha—?”

            I raised my hand to interrupt him. “But I want more than that. I don’t care that you’re a prostitute; it doesn’t mean you’re something less than human. And it definitely doesn’t mean that I can’t love you.”

            Shit…I hadn’t meant to say love. Sure, it was pretty much blatantly, undeniably true that I was head-over-heels for him, but it was stuff like this that scared him away. However, he just looked dumbly at me. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I go on? Did he want me to shut up? It would have been so much easier if he would have just got up and come back and kissed me like that again—kissed me breathless.

            “I mean that,” I went on carefully. “I do want you and I’m pretty sure I love you, but if you’re going to back off every time we get somewhere…Just…”

            There wasn’t anything else for me to say, even if I wanted to. My mouth clamped shut and Jensen was struggling his way up again.

            “You want me?” he asked uncertainly. I just nodded.

            My mind skipped ahead and suddenly he was standing above me, looking down into me with those damned intense eyes. I swallowed, nervous because I couldn’t read the clouded expression on his face. When he slid down and sat straddled on my lap, I took a deep breath.

            “You say you love me?”

            His eyes narrowed down to slits and he leaned in. Our lips met, like a quiet force buzzing behind his head. Pressing his weight against me, he shoved me slowly back against the cushions behind me. I let my eyes slip closed with the feel of his body heat laying flush on my chest. I shivered like I was cold, but I wasn’t.

            “Y’know I probably won’t remember any of this in the mornin’?”

            Before I could reply, his long fingers gripped and pulled my slack jaw down. I felt his tongue slip into my mouth and flick over my palate. With his other hand, he ran a soft touch down my chest. The sensations were like fire on my skin, over my tongue and down my throat. Pressure tweaked my nipples and then dug into the muscles of my abdomen. After that, his hand was at my groin and I had to break for air.

            “Fuck,” I mumbled. When he squeezed me through my jeans, my back arched pathetically and I mewled at the back of my throat.

            “Can’t love you, Jay,” he breathed around his tongue on my neck. “Don’t know how t’love you.” His fingertips found the head of my cock and pinched it. I jumped underneath him, barely able to process his words. “Teach me?”

            The only reply I could manage was a nod and some non-committal noise that grew into a helpless yelp. That hand, the one that used to be digging into my jaw, was now dragging my shirt up and slipping underneath to brush over my nipples. Just like my dick, they were both uncomfortably hard. Pulses of spiny pleasure wrapped like barbed wire around my arms and legs. All of the places that couldn’t feel him pressed close desired the heat that he had centered about my torso. With that tweak to my left nipple, I squeaked and hugged my arms around him once more.

            “You teach me to love,” Jen went on. His voice was thinning out with every kiss, lick and nip to my neck. “I’ll teach you to fuck.”

            An intense shot of something consuming surged up my spine and drew a loud noise from me. This whine was something I didn’t know I could make. Thinking about him holding true to that deal made my hips twitch up against him of their own accord.

            “You want that?”  
            “Yes!” Maybe my voice was more of a desperate rasp than I had originally planned, but that didn’t matter. His hand was down the front of my pants.

            Jen moaned and sucked my bottom lip between his teeth. The suction of his mouth fogged up my mind. It took an enormous effort for me to follow the motion when he moved his head with sloppy kisses on my cheek until he could lick at the shell of my ear. His hot breath slithered over my nerves all over my body. “Strip,” he demanded.

            The next ice age descended when he stood again. I could hardly muster the strength to open my eyes all the way and fight the shivers convulsing in my body to make up for the lack of Jensen. I stared up at him, trying to catch my breath. His tan skin glowed with something like the sun in the dim light from the TV and the fluorescents still on in the kitchen. For a moment, he swayed and I was mesmerized by the small smile on his reddened lips as he looked down. The buttons of his shirt were subjected to the strong fingers that I could still feel on my chest, my face, my cock.

            His voice was a rasp. “Do it.” I remembered that he’d told me to do something.

            Slowly, I pulled my arms up and worked my motor skills back into my fingers. I didn’t want to move; I just wanted to watch him take off his clothes _in front of me_. Jen wasn’t shy about his body, so I’d seen him in all states of undress. This, however, felt so much more personal and intimate. He was revealing himself to me, just for me—not because he needed to get from the bathroom to his bedroom and his towel was wet. When his shirt slid down from his shoulders and pooled down on the floor around his feet, he was looking at me as if the fact that I was watching was such a turn on. He chuckled quietly and I smiled.

            I was finally able to gain the presence of mind to move, so I pulled my shirt up over my head. _This is happening,_ I thought on an off note. _Oh, fuck, but this is really happening._ Mistakenly, I was under the impression that I would be a little better than this; I wouldn’t be the nervous virgin with a fluttering heart and blushing skin. However, that was my heart fluttering and that was the heat of a blush on me. Oh right, and I was a virgin, too.

            Was I embarrassed or something? I must have been. Suddenly, the idea of him looking at me—those god’s eyes seeing my obviously inferior body structure—was utter blasphemy. My arms crossed over my chest when I saw the Adonis-built firmness of his toned body.

            “No,” he insisted, reaching towards me. “S’a crime to cover up…something so beautiful.” He started pulling my arms away and abruptly switched his focus to massaging into my Pecs.

            I started to deny that compliment—I don’t really appreciate flattery—but his mouth crash landed on mine. I wanted to melt into him, curl up inside his being and be warm and safe. I wanted to trust him with that…and yeah, why the hell not? I already loved him more than I probably should. More than what justified his hands on me—undoing my jeans. Absently, I lifted my hips and let him pull both my pants and shorts from my hips.

            “Wanna fuck you,” Jen cooed in my ear.

            My gut twisted up into tiny little knots at that. It wasn’t a matter of wanting this—damn it, I wanted it! The thing that got me, as his hands dug into the cushions to cup the backs of my knees, was that I had never done this before. Forget that he’s drunk; I had decided at that point that sex was worth any negative consequences. But to think that this was something new and if my sources are worth a damn, it was going to hurt like hell; I reached a shaky hand up and knotted it in his hair.

            “Yeah.” My reply was a little weak.

            Jensen seemed to notice it by the look in his eyes—confusion mixed with concern in his gaze. “S’okay.” We kissed again, soft and tender this time, his tongue lapping at my lips and barely darting inside.

            Moaning, I clamped my arm around his shoulders. With a strong grasp, he was pulling my legs up and bending them at the knees. Smacking sounds separated our lips followed by a groan of mine when my back slid down the couch back. My muscles quivered with every move he forced on me, manhandling me until I was face down on the cushions. I could feel his mouth sucking at the back of my neck; teeth worrying the flesh, as he lowered his chest flush against me.

            “Ngh!” I think I meant that to be a word or a sentence, but he pushed my hips down and consequently rubbed my erection roughly against the coarse upholstery. My entire body quaked and he promptly humped against my ass with soft yet harsh fabric, his blatantly aroused cock pressing the zipper tag into my skin. “Ack!”  
            “S’okay,” he repeated against my skin, tonguing what was bound to be the mother of all hickeys.

            There was a rustling of fabric, which I figured must have been him digging in his pocket for something. When I tried to look around, his fingers locked into my hair; he turned my head at an awkward angle and kissed me. Well, it was more like he tongue fucked me. His hot lips consumed mine; his roaming tongue tackled mine into submission. My fingertips were chafing where they dug into the couch, and I wriggled in the little space that he allowed me to try to get some friction on the pulsing dick trapped between me and the cushion.

            If it wasn’t for his mouth swallowing down every sound I managed to make, I would have made the most humiliating, yelping noise in sex history. Something cold and probing slicked between the crevice of my ass and dipped into my hole. I couldn’t stop myself from tensing and breaking away from his kiss, but he just petted my hair tenderly.

            “Relax…” Wasn’t that just easier said than done? “C’mon, Jay…I’m not gonna hurt you.”

            The finger—because I now deduced that it had to be his finger—wriggled in little circles around the opening, tickling sensation driving a quiver up my spine. His other hand fell away from my hair, down my back and dragged warmly under my stomach. There he pulled my hips up just a little into the threat that was his thick, long digit at my opening.  The tip pressed in and then retreated quickly, slickness of lube warming in our combined body heat. All the while, he was muttering in my ear meaningless words of how to relax and that: “s’gonna be so good, baby.”

            “M’not a…” My throat was suddenly very dry and all of the air that I could muster only allowed for a whisper. “M’not a baby.”

            He chuckled and stroked the base of my belly gently. “’Course not,” he agreed, tone patronizing. His tenderness was well placed and proved to be enough to turn me into mush beneath him. Then next thing I knew, he was inside of me, a steady pressure pushing into my ass.

            It wasn’t so much that it hurt. In fact, it just felt incredibly uncomfortable at first. The slippery length of his finger pushed in and pulled out again to move back in. I didn’t particularly like the sensation, the undeniable presence of something shoved up my ass. I started to wonder—if this was how it felt the entire time—why the hell did people do it in the first place? Then, I thought about the size of that bulge in his pants and I tried to imagine how that would feel different. I tensed right up again.

            “Jen!” I would have screamed if I could have. “Oh fuck!” He did it again: hooked his finger on the thrust and hit something inside me that spilled scalding waves of sparks over my entire body. At the back of my mind, I figured that that was probably my prostate. My consuming thought, on the other hand, was the pitiful tone dribbling out of my mouth. “Please, Jen…fuck—shit—do that…ngh! Do it again. Please, Jensen!”

            He did.

            “Told you,” he announced smugly over my keening whine.

            And really, that’s not allowed. He couldn’t go around talking with his phone sex voice when he had a finger inside me. That just wasn’t fair. I felt like I was at a massive disadvantage. The discomfort eased away with the rise of pleasure stabbing into my back; I felt every twitch of his finger. Every move he made wound me up like clockwork. And then he started talking and he has to be trying to drive me crazy.

            “You okay?” he asked innocently.

            “Fuck you.”

            My throat clenched around that curse and my body jerked when Jen drove in deeper. His hand was curled, biting into my flesh and working that digit in a slow, pulsing rhythm.

            Chuckling, he swiped his tongue up the back of my ear. “Gonna fuck _you_ , Jay,” he promised, voice quiet. His hand pulled back with a squish noise and promptly returned with two slick fingers. “You want that, right? Said you want me…want you too; wanted this for a long while now.” I bit back my jealousy that he could still string together coherent thoughts while my brain was in the process of shutting down. My hole stretched tight around him, but it didn’t as much burn as it felt good. He brushed that sweet spot with feather-light touches.

            I felt the vibrations in my chest that said I was breathing and probably moaning. My teeth were gritted to hold it back and air was moving in and out through my nose, but the sound were lost to me. They were silenced by my heart pounding in my ears. Pressure was building in me, I felt swollen with the heat and the pleasure that just wasn’t enough to overflow, not enough to give me relief. The only thing keeping me from humping the couch like a bitch in heat was that Jen was now holding my hips still while he fucked me open on scissoring fingers.

            “Ung, Jen!” I wanted to beg him, just to get on with it, give me more. My own voice was muted, like I was hearing myself at a distance.

            His was right there, though, the booming tenor in my ear. “What is it?”

            There was no way I made that high-pitched keening noise; but, fuck did that third finger hurt. The sting of being so full spread an ache over my lower back and down my legs. Mechanically, my muscles clenched and I tried to bend my knees, raise myself up. All of this weight kept me down, my aching cock pinned to the cushion, leaking steadily.

            “Jared…what?”

            “Just do it,” I mumbled into the fluffy cushion. “Fucking…ahhh…fuck me, do it—want your cock…need— _ahmifuck_!”

            Jensen’s hand stuttered inside me and he reached up and gripped my hair with the other. I felt him shudder. “My God…” Heaven above! His raspy growl enveloped me in anticipation. “’Course you want my cock. You're hungry for it, aren't you? Wan’it inside you jay?”

            “Yes!” Oh my fucking Jesus, was he really fucking asking me that? I was this close to just reaching back and dragging my nails through his skin, give him some sort of punishment for playing with me. I did move my hand back, trying to get at his wrist, pull his fingers out. If he kept this up, I was going to come before he even got inside me, and I didn’t want that. “Please!” I moaned against my arm that was stretched under my head. “Please, Jen…fuck me, fuck my ass—want you to, _please!_ ”

            “Want me to be your first, babe?”

            And I didn’t even challenge the demeaning endearment, just wanted this— _him_. “Do it!”

            Suddenly, I was very achingly empty. Three fingers drew out of my ass and he pulled himself all the way onto the couch to nudge his knees between my thighs. “Spread for me,” he urged and that airy whisper almost did me in right then. “C’mon, Jay. Spread your legs wide for me.” I obeyed and listened intently to the sound of fabric rubbing together and a zip separating. My hair pulled tight as he yanked my head up and back. A slick palm pressed into my thigh and pushed me open wider.

            His short spikes brushed my cheek, licking like flames at my skin. Wet lips pressed against the corner of my mouth, but I couldn’t turn my head to reciprocate it. I couldn’t move my head, my legs or my entire body; I could barely rasp a moan from the awkward bend of my neck when his cock head pushed into me. I was slick from his fingers, but no way in hell was I loose enough. When he made that first shallow thrust into me, I felt every catch of the latex condom, every inch that breached me; I barely managed to keep from yanking away from him.

            “Too much?”

            Yeah, it was definitely too much. Was I going to tell him that? No fucking way! “N-no,” I croaked through stretched vocal cords.

            The burn and ache and stretch seemed to last for an eternity, a lifetime of _yesfuckyesgodohheckfuckme_. By the time he was bottomed out, buried deep inside of me, I was caught between crying out for him to stop that I couldn’t do this or wanting the pleasure that I knew he could give to me. Blinking through the tears that were stinging my eyes, I swung my head to free it from his grasp.

            Almost immediately, his mouth latched onto my neck, over the sore spot where he’d already sucked a hickey into my skin. Tongue flicking out, he stroked the bruise. Then, his hands cupped my shoulders and he rolled his hips in a short move. I was going to die. If he didn’t get moving and make this better fast, I was going to keel over. My bent my back slightly and brought myself up to meet him—a sob stuck in my throat at the painful pressure.

            “Fuck me, Jen,” I demanded, “hurry up and…nhgg!”

            With a slight adjustment, he gave a calculating thrust and this time it ended in fireworks. Instead of going away, the burn augmented in a twirling mix with the heated pleasure spiking through me. “ _Ohhellyeahmmmm…_ ” My body convulsed involuntarily on that point centered at the place where his body connected with mine.

            “So fucking tight,” Jen muttered into the haze of my mind. With his slow, firm strokes, he stabbed at my prostate. I bit the inside of my lip to keep from screaming with it. “You have no idea how amazing this feels, being inside your tight, virgin ass.”

            Oh my good lord, his voice, his words were hitting another place inside of me that I didn’t know existed. “After this, you’re hole is gonna be so fucked out, you’re not gonna sit right all day tomorrow.” The right side of my brain was officially shutting down complete with lullabies and what had to be the screams of dying brain cells. “No idea how long I wanted t’fuck you…make love to you…” The next plunge hit deeper and harder and that statement set off my orgasm. I had enough time to register “jizz city” before I completely blacked out.

 

In the morning, my ears were assaulted by the harsh sound of a screaming Spanish woman who’d just won some outrageous sum of money on a crappy game show. I couldn’t open my eyes without being assaulted by the sun coming in through the windows, so I reached forward awkwardly and groped over the coffee table for the remote. Once located, I blindly pressed buttons until the TV beeped off. All of that being done, I settle myself back against the warm envelop I’d fallen asleep in. It didn’t feel like what a couch was supposed to feel like, but my mind hadn’t quite woken up yet.

            When I felt a solid, heated mass snake around my waist from behind me, I forced myself to think. Uncertainly, my hand covered the one that was now splayed over my chest. I examined the tanned skin and I was genuinely confused as to how I’d come to be asleep on the couch...and not by myself…and naked. Then, I saw the bruises wrapped around the thick wrist and it clicked.

            “Oh fuck,” I muttered. I twisted a bit to see and make sure that it was Jensen behind me. An uncomfortable sting shot up my back muscles from my ass, and I regretted the movement. Damn, it felt like he was still inside of me.

            “No ducks…fucking hate ducks,” came the grumbled reply.

            “What?”

            “Huh?”

            Apparently, he wasn’t quite awake either. He squirmed absently behind me, making quiet groaning noises while he searched for a good position. I imagined it would be hard to find a comfortable position when he was pressed against the back of the couch by my massive ass. I couldn’t quite bite back my chuckle—or my groan when his chest slid against my back.

            “What about ducks?” he asked, a slurred “good morning” tone.

            “I didn’t say anything about ducks, you psychopath. Now let me go before you suffocate me.”

            I probably shouldn’t have been laughing at him while he basically held my life in his hands…arms. He cleared his throat and then squeezed me tight around the chest. “Ugh! Jen, my ribs are cracking!”

            With a soft huff against my back, he nuzzled his nose and cheek lightly over my skin and stroked his hand downward and upward a few inches. “Teddy bears don’t talk,” he mumbled.

            I wasn’t his teddy bear. In fact, I didn’t take too kindly to the emasculating nicknames he was throwing out. Except I did…completely. I loved that he called me that: “baby,” “babe,” and “teddy bear.” The act sent a surge of warmth straight to my heart and spread slowly over my body like a full-body massage. Slowly, I let myself stop trying to pull away. Why was I even trying anyway? This was what I wanted.

            Five hours ago, I would still have been stuck in that oppressive fear of him pushing me away. For most of the year that I have lived with him, Jensen seemed like an intangible dream. As much as I wanted him—oh and I did want him—I wasn’t sure I really _wanted_ him. The whole “prostitute thing” didn’t quite turn me off, it was the one barrier that I had the most trouble climbing over. Out of all his insecurities and emotional problems, his occupation was the only thing I couldn’t deal with. Something about knowing that he goes around flashing his too-green eyes to get attract his customers. My dreams consisted of his too-green eyes only being on me like some cheesy love song. But seriously? Teddy Bear is a cheesy love song too. Damn Elvis…

            Was my dream coming true? Was there actually a chance that there was more to Jensen then his pretty face and fucked up personal skills? Could it be mine? The thoughts were putting an uneasy feeling into my stomach. My gut wanted to fly off it was so full of butterflies. One would think that I could reserve the nervous “should I not” thoughts for before he had fucked me instead of in hindsight. Hah, silly me.

            “Jen?”

            “Uh-uh.” I could almost see the sloppy way he shook his head, face still pressed against my back. “No serious talk. It’s a Saturday, it’s early and I have a head ache that has cut my vocabulary capabilities to this sentence. Going back to sleep now, shut up.”

            Strangely, I was good with that. He didn’t seem to be trying to blow it off until later, and he definitely wasn’t telling me to get the hell away from him. It felt more like he was saying “we don’t need to talk.” If there wasn’t anything to say, that was probably a good thing. If he wasn’t going to push me away that meant that last night hadn’t been a mistake. Last night—and a wonderful night it was for me—wasn’t me throwing away my virginity on a romanticized whim.

            “Jen?”

            Heaving an exasperated sigh, Jensen adjusted until he had his left arm out from under me. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at me over my shoulder. “Why you gotta bitch in the morning?” But he was smiling. Sure, it was thin, probably from his headache.

            “You’re hard.”

            And I swear on my life, he blushed. _Jensen, my slutty gay roommate, Jensen_ blushed. With an awkward glance, he looked down—I assume he was looking at his hips pressed seamlessly against my ass. Then, his eyes—radioactive eyes—were back on me and he rolled his eyes lazily. “Well, we’re naked together on a couch. Can’t think of anything to make me harder faster.”

            When we kissed, it was perfect and sweet with all of its morning-breath, sloppy tongue, _Jensen_ awesomeness.


End file.
